


Teens and Wolves

by luchia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Animal Violence, Gen, Psychic Wolves, is human-wolf bromance a thing, oh well IT IS NOW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luchia/pseuds/luchia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Scott gets attacked by an enormous telepathic nightmare of a wolf in the woods, he ends up getting an enormous telepathic wolf of his own. It's named Chipmunk.</p>
<p>Now Stiles has to keep angry poachers, Derek Hale (and wolf), and The Man from coming down on Scott and his illegal cuddlepuppy of a bond wolf, not to mention help Scott and Chipmunk evade Nightmare Wolf, who is still stalking Scott and running around town murdering people.</p>
<p>(Season 1 of Teen Wolf, but with teens who have enormous psychic wolves.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teens and Wolves

There’s a dead body in the woods. Or half of one, at least. Of course Stiles wants to find it, and of course Scott is only a few (wheezing, asthmatic) steps behind him.

And when Scott does find it, all hell breaks loose.

Her empty eyes staring right at him aren’t the worst part. Those alone would be enough to make Scott want to scream and run, but the worst part of it all is the massive wolf next to the half of a murdered woman, or what’s left of a wolf that used to be bigger than his best friend’s Jeep. It’s missing an entire chunk of its throat and its ribs are visible through what used to be a silky white coat of fur before it was coated in blood, but the wolf corpse looks like it’s _still_ reaching for the dead woman.

The only thing that keeps Scott from vomiting then and there is the howl he hears, and adrenaline kicking in so suddenly that he’s running away from the bodies in no direction at all, just _away_.

It doesn’t help. He collapses, traitorous lungs choking him, and sees another wolf just as big, but pure black with matted bloody fur that’s missing entire tufts over its skin and bright red eyes, but Scott is more focused on the teeth. They are very large, and very dirty, and very much bared.

Scott barely has time to scream before the wolf is rushing towards him.

And then Scott stops screaming, because he’s going to die, and all he can think about is how his mom is going to have to try and identify his body. He closes his eyes so tight it hurts, and listens to the growls of his impending doom.

Scott waits.

It takes a long time and a lot of growling for him to die, apparently?

_Mine!!!_ something roars in his mind, words but somehow not words, and Scott opens his eyes to see yet another wolf in front of him. This one is brown and smaller but still could squish Scott under a single paw. It’s also crouched protectively in front of Scott, teeth bared at the monster wolf he thought was about to murder him.

The nightmare wolf circles the smaller brown wolf for a terrifyingly long moment, and Scott can’t do anything but cringe and hyperventilate because he’s going to die and there’s a weird not-voice in his head projecting thoughts into his brain, saying _MINE will protect mine fallen-leaves-metallic-tang will FIGHT HURT KILL for MINE!_ The thoughts in his head are like watching a movie with smell instead of video, and Scott tries to start breathing again, but he’s lost his inhaler. His body trying to hyperventilate during an asthma attack is almost as bad as being attacked by massive nightmare wolves.

Something like wry irritation, like a small fly buzzing around his head, comes through. It feels different from the other voice. Older. The annoyance is followed by a sudden sense of _focus_.

And then, the nightmare wolf turns around and leaves. It fades into the night forest like Scott really did just dream it up.

The smaller huge wolf doesn’t leave, though. It keeps watching the departed wolf even after Scott’s lost sight of it. When it feels like the nightmare wolf is actually gone, the brown wolf turns in a flurry of coltish legs to stick its nose right in Scott’s face.

_MINE_ , the voice in his head says one more time, happy and playful and relieved. The impression in his head is a little like a puppy in a play-bow, tail wagging furiously. _Mine fallen-leaves-metallic-tang! Pack safe! Hello fallen-leaves-metallic-tang I protected you hello!_

And then it starts licking him.

“Oh, _gross_ ,” Scott says, and he is never going to be able to save this shirt.

It stops licking him then, head tilting inquisitively before it starts prancing around Scott for a bit and then stops, sitting on the forest floor in front of Scott, bumping its forehead against Scott’s. The mental scent of _fallen-leaves-metallic-tang_ comes again, followed quickly by the scent of _warm-pine sap-in-winter_ , a smell that immediately leaves Scott thinking of a crisp but comfortable winter night curled up by a warming pine tree.

Scott stares at the happy wolf. “Are you in my head?”

The wolf - _warm-pine sap-in -winter_ , if that is actually its name –honest to god nods at him, tongue lolling happily. _Fallen-leaves-metallic-tang and warm-pine sap-in -winter pack bonded together HAPPY._

Scott knows he’s never going to be a rocket scientist or anything (and doesn’t want to be anyway), but he’s not stupid. He’s just really, really, _really_ shocked to realize this is a goddamned bond wolf in front of him. Anyone would be shocked. They’re only in fairytales and special branches of the military or law enforcement. They’re also supposed to be an endangered species, nonexistent outside of the government breeding programs.

The bond wolf obviously isn’t very good at patience, since it’s already nudging Scott to his feet and trotting happily by his side as Scott tries to get back home.

_Oh shit, my inhaler_ , Scott thinks dismally. His mom is going to kill him, those things are crazy expensive.

Except then the bond wolf leaves his side, circling back into the woods and swiftly returning with something held very carefully in its mouth, only to drop it in front of Scott’s feet smugly.

It’s his inhaler.

Scott realizes it smells exactly like fallen leaves with a metallic tang to them.

“You named me after my _inhaler_?” Scott accuses, weirdly disappointed and feeling a little bit betrayed.

The wolf lets out an amused whuff of air, and nudges Scott back into motion with its shoulder, which is about at Scott’s shoulder blades. 

“I’m going to name you something stupid too,” Scott threatens. His wolf looks very unimpressed, but is still constantly projecting happiness and _pack_ and their names almost on repeat. “Fine. You’re Chipmunk, since you chatter constantly.” And the pattern of his fur looks vaguely chipmunk-like. And it’s also weirdly easier to deal with a two hundred pound wolf when thinking of a tiny fluffy vegetarian animal.

Since Chipmunk doesn’t look like he cares as long as Scott keeps paying attention to him, he figures it’s as good as anything else. 

\---

Stiles is waiting at Scott’s house, because it is a good way to make sure Scott actually got home. Plus, Scott dropped his phone and Stiles is going to make him take it back and possibly surgically implant it somewhere he wouldn’t lose it because he is going _crazy_ with worry. He heard _howling_ in the woods, and everyone knows there’s something monstrous deep in the woods around Beacon Hills.

When Scott _does_ show up, Stiles ends up staring at a soggy, muddy, dirty mess of a best friend beaming giddily at him. Oh, and there’s an enormous wolf sticking its head through the front door, obviously considering the door and trying to figure out if it can fit.

“Don’t even try it, stupid, you’re not an indoors wolf,” Scott says, scolding the massive wolf in a weirdly affectionate way. Kind of like when Scott scolds Stiles, which is, admittedly, pretty rare. Scott suddenly notices that Stiles is staring at the wolf because _what the fuck_ , and comfortably grabs the wolf’s huge head, wrapping it up in a headlock hug, and says, “Hey Stiles, look what I brought home!”

Stiles looks at them both in absolute horror. “Jesus Christ, is that a freaking _bond wolf_?”

“I call him Chipmunk,” Scott says proudly, and then adds, “He calls me inhaler. Or smell of an inhaler in the forest. Or something.”

_Fallen-leaves-metallic-tang_ suddenly bursts into Stiles’ nose, and he ends up flailing himself right into a wall.

Chipmunk is totally laughing at him.

“Man, I can’t wait to show my mom,” Scott says, grinning, which is no no _no_.

“Dude, that is a _bond wolf_ , do you think they’ll let you just parade around town with it?” Stiles demands. Scott very, very obviously never thought of this. “The only people who get bond wolves are military or like SWAT teams or something, sixteen-year-old kids in high school don’t get to have four hundred pound killing machines for pets. ‘It followed me home, can we keep him’ is _not_ a good argument.”

Stiles doesn’t even want to imagine what could have happened if a wild bond wolf had decided to just eat Scott instead of turn him into a life companion for some reason.

Scott is obviously battling between outrage and disappointment, so Stiles doesn’t take it personally when he says, “Chipmunk would be terrible in a war or whatever, so they wouldn’t want him.”

Stiles has read up on bond wolves a lot, because he really really wants to find a way to get his dad one. There’s plenty of precedent for cops with bond wolves, even if most of it was in the wild west days. But since they have the most controlled breeding ever and even more controlled bonding, he ends up with nothing but information and the knowledge that he will never have the hundred thousand dollars people pay for their own private killer pony-sized telepathic wolf. Whereas apparently Scott just has to wander around alone in the woods for a little bit.

“Chipmunk could have two legs and rabies and they’d want him,” Stiles says honestly.

It takes a while for Scott to realize Stiles is mostly just giving him _facts_. It takes much longer for him to finally stop complaining about how cruel the world is to him and Chipmunk, which, to be honest, is justified. They hide Chipmunk in the garage, since his mom is working the night shift. Stiles sleeps in Scott’s bed, because Scott wants to sleep in the garage. With Chipmunk.

Weird.

“Where did you even find him?” Stiles eventually asks in the morning, and that’s how Stiles ends up tromping through the woods, _again_ , with his asthmatic friend and a bouncy giant wolf that seems more than happy to spend any of their asthma-induced breaks chasing anything and everything living in the forest. Stiles is starting to think Chipmunk’s still a puppy, particularly after Scott told him the other wolves were bigger. Plus, he’s pretty sure only a puppy would actually want Scott in its head.

When they reach the spot Scott found the bodies at – the _exact_ spot, according to a very confused Chipmunk – there’s nothing to see. Chipmunk whines, confused, but it doesn’t last long. One minute he’s nosing at a suspiciously dark area of leaves, and the next he’s up and growling at something deeper in the forest. Scott is only a moment behind him, moving from where he’d been sitting on a log to stand, alert, and looking in the same direction.

“What is it?” Stiles asks, because he has no idea what’s riled the two to this extent.

“There’s another wolf,” Scott says, and for some reason Stiles ends up staring at Scott and thinking, _wow, dude, you almost sounded like an adult there._

The wolf that eventually comes gliding out of the trees is definitely bigger than Chipmunk, which just makes Stiles all the more certain about Chipmunk being a puppy. Or whatever they call a teenaged bond wolf. The new wolf is an _adult_ , large and watching them with deep blue eyes. His coat is mostly pitch black, but with slashes of grey in it, reminiscent of cinders from an old fire.

Scott’s obviously not going to translate whatever’s on the telepathic-wolf-channel, so Stiles just watches the new wolf lay down a few yards away, obviously unimpressed with them. It gives Stiles his first look at the human accompanying the bond wolf. 

For some reason, he is really unsurprised that it’s Derek Hale.

“You want to let me in the loop here?” Stiles calls out, since Scott and Derek aren’t saying a word. Stupid telepathic wolves.

“The full moon is tomorrow,” Derek says aloud, and Stiles isn’t sure if it’s really directed towards him. The adult cinder wolf seems to know, though, since it stands and circles around Derek, brushing against his side like a very big cat. “You two don’t have any control, you can’t go running around on your own.”

“I’m fine,” Scott practically spits out.

Derek just scowls some more, but the cinder wolf’s huff says plenty about what they think about Scott’s ever so sound logic.

“What’s going to happen?” Stiles asks, completely ignoring the wounded look Scott gives him. It’s his job to look out for Scott and whatever stupid shit he gets into, just like he trusts Scott to save his ass if he needs to be saved.

“We’re brothers now,” Derek says, because apparently Stiles doesn’t exist? “Pack should run together.”

“I’m not in your _pack_ ,” Scott says, and then Chipmunk is herding Stiles back towards the road, Scott right beside him.

\---

It turns out what happens on a full moon is that the bond between wolf and human gets swapped, more or less. Wolf generally obeys human, in the basic set-up, but during a full moon human obeys wolf. There’s still the option of disobedience, but according to the stuff Stiles is reading, it sounds like that’s more like dangling food in front of a hungry man, since they don’t _have_ to eat it, but they’ll want to.

Allison is a whole other bag of problems, since Scott _really_ likes her, and Chipmunk seems to be outright encouraging him from wherever Chipmunk has put himself in the woods outside of school. Stiles had underestimated how excellent his coat is for camouflage. If only he could camouflage the way Scott was pretty much making everyone think he was hearing voices and hallucinating smells and sounds. Exactly how Scott’s managing to do all of this stuff remains a mystery.

He tries to lock Scott in his bedroom, but Chipmunk somehow manages to get Scott’s stupid window open and bam, Scott’s off to see Allison and Stiles is stuck trying to not freak out about what a wolf-addled Scott could be doing around his crush. Or about how Scott’s mom is going to react to the claw marks on the side of the house.

The next morning, Stiles finds out that Allison’s dad is some sort of wolf hunter and Chipmunk ended up literally grabbing Scott with his bare teeth and running off into the woods just to avoid getting shot.

Having an unlicensed bond wolf, it turns out, is _way_ more illegal than he’d thought.

Whether the Argents are there to gather wild bond wolves for breeding programs or kill unlicensed bonded pairs, Stiles doesn’t exactly know. The only solid fact is that the Argents want to kill unlicensed humans. Scott doesn’t know why, and Allison has no idea it’s even going on, and like hell he’s asking Derek Hale about that. For all Stiles knows they could be devil-worshippers and this is how they like to hail Satan.

It turns out that the Hales were some sort of symbiotic family with the wild packs they protect in Beacon Hills; the Hales protected the wolves from poachers and scientists, and the wolves protected the Hales in turn. There’s something else to the equation, but Stiles can’t figure out what the link is. Beacon Hills was running great, its Old Ways relationship intact and beneficial to the entire community, and then some poachers burned all of the Hales to death inside their house.

-

Derek Hale remains a mystery for a long time, but Stiles starts to actually Get It when he ends up nearly running the man over in the school parking lot.

“He’s hurt,” Derek manages to get out, and suddenly Stiles finds himself helping Derek Hale abduct a more than willing to help Dr. Deaton. Stiles drives the three of them to the middle of nowhere in the woods, since that’s where Derek had parked his gigantic wolf that’d been shot with a dart. Derek had managed to pry it out on his own, but has no idea what it injected or what could be happening to his wolf.

The wolf’s name is Hearth, he’s seven years old, and Derek obviously cares more about him than anything else in the entire world. While Deaton examines the ridiculously big wolf, Derek doesn’t leave Hearth’s side for a single moment.

“Just give him time to run it out of his system,” Deaton says. “Whatever hit him, it was a sedative made specifically for bond wolves. Relatively harmless on its own, aside from incapacitating the wolf. It’s for capture, not execution.” He looks at Derek for a long time, watches him try to look cold and impassive despite the fact he has Hearth’s head cradled in his lap and has yet to stop petting him. “He’ll be fine. If you need anything else, just _ask_ , alright?”

Stiles drives him back to the clinic.

“You know a lot about bond wolves,” Stiles says. Deaton hadn’t even hesitated when he saw the hulking thing, hadn’t even been surprised. Hadn’t needed to look and see the slight (but important) physiological differences between a bond wolf and a regular wolf – or a dog, which was probably the only canine a veterinarian was honestly expected to deal with. When Deaton doesn’t reply, he ventures, “You know a lot about the Hales too, huh?”

“I also know a lot about Scott,” Deaton answers.

Stiles can’t tell if it’s a polite reminder, or a weird attempt at deflection, or a threat, so he just sets himself to talking lacrosse.

-

Scott and Stiles are still permanently on the bench, but Scott really doesn’t care anymore, since he has Allison and Chipmunk to occupy his time now. Going from sullen benchwarmer to placid smiling benchwarmer is a big enough change that their captain Jackson is accosting Scott about wanting to get on the same magic untraceable happy pills, apparently. The guy seems kind of desperate to be as chill as Scott is these days. Stiles would laugh at him if it wasn’t so sad.

Oh, and there’s a wolf running around ravaging people in town, but Stiles isn’t really super worried about that. Scott’s got Chipmunk, and Stiles knows that Derek would never make his wolf kill (without reason) since, according to Scott, bond wolves actually really don’t like attacking humans and are squeamish even at the thought.

“Some other bond wolf could be out there waiting for that human,” is the explanation Scott gives.

Scott knows the wolf that’s doing the murdering, since it’s the one that Chipmunk saved him from and killed Laura and her wolf, which was something called a queen wolf, but nobody’s really willing to explain that to Stiles. There’s a _lot_ of stuff people aren’t willing to explain to Stiles.

They _do_ start explaining – or Scott starts talking, at least – after they end up trapped in their own high school, getting stalked by the crazed bond wolf that nearly killed Scott. Along with Allison. And Jackson. And Lydia. Stiles would apologize to the janitor for all the wolf hair he has to clean up if he was alive. But he’s not.

This shit is just getting ridiculous.

Allison takes it pretty well, for someone whose family will want to murder her boyfriend. The fact Chipmunk wants nothing more than to cuddle with her probably helps.

There’s no bonded queen wolf anymore, and that means the territory’s up for grabs by the strongest male wolf in the area. And the nightmare wolf wants to claim it, and also wants to murder lots of people for some reason. And also prove its dominance over every other bond wolf in the area – starting with poor Chipmunk.

They end up standing around in the gym, looking at Scott while he rubs down a whining Chipmunk. Chipmunk is scared of the nightmare wolf, and not just because it looks scary and wants to force Chipmunk to submit. Apparently, its name is _fire-fear-charred-flesh-burning-fur-fire-fire-fire_. The scent leaves them all gagging and retching at what is undoubtedly the smell of wolves and humans burning alive.

Hales, then.

Definitely Hales.

But apparently there can only be one wolf per human and vice versa, to the point that Scott looks a little sick at the idea of it being otherwise, so it’s not Derek. Really though, there’s no better source of information for who could be bonded to Nightmare Wolf. The new members of the accidental pack are left behind, because hell if they know what Derek would do if he saw ‘outsiders’. He seems okay with Stiles, what with kidnapping him so he could have his abductee abduct another person. At the very least, Hearth won’t murder Stiles without at least a little hesitation.

\---

Derek is very easy to find since they’ve got Chipmunk on their side, but it means Derek can feel them coming too. It leads to a weird psychic wolf compromise between Chipmunk and Hearth that somehow leads to meeting at the Hale house. Again.

Just when Stiles thought he was getting used to the size of bond wolves, too. Stiles looks at Hearth standing next to the ever-bouncy Chipmunk, who obviously sees absolutely no threat in the meeting, and wonders exactly how young ‘Munk really is. Even in the month or so that Scott and Chipmunk have been bonded, the wolf’s grown.

There’s something different between how Hearth and Derek move around each other than what Scott and Chipmunk have. Scott and Chipmunk are bros who can read each other’s mind. Derek and Hearth are a coordinated machine of fur and muscle and claw and fist. Stiles is more than a little worried to see what Nightmare’s bond looks like with the human involved.

“Feel free to speak up,” Stiles has to say about five minutes into the meeting, because Derek and Scott are on the psychic wolf line again and leaving Stiles out of the loop to a dangerous degree.

“Everyone else is dead, he doesn’t know who it could be,” Scott says, obviously summing up a very long conversation they’ve missed entirely. Scott does turn to look at them, though. “But apparently psycho evil wolf has been acting really weird. I guess they don’t prowl around high schools like that unless their human’s, like, _right there_ with them.”

“Bond wolves are very intelligent, but that wasn’t stalking or hunting or even observation. Using a floorplan like that is pure human-driven behavior,” Derek says. Stiles isn’t sure if he’s relieved or even more scared that Derek has no idea what’s going on. “Either there _was_ someone there and you missed it, or we’re dealing with a Rider.”

Stiles waits, but when Derek forgets they have no idea what that is, he has to prompt, “Meaning?”

“Someone who can transfer their entire consciousness through the link and into their bond wolf, and vice versa,” Derek says, and Stiles doesn’t miss the way one of his hands bunches into Hearth’s fur. “It’s dangerous, and you both have to be on the exact same wavelength for it to work.”

Scott is obviously thinking very hard. “What happens if a human dies while they’re inside the wolf’s body?”

“They’d both be trapped together, whether or not they were thinking the same way,” Derek says. He’s usually not very expressive, but anyone could see the barely-suppressed horror. “It would drive both minds insane.”

Stiles snaps, pointing at them. “That would explain the name, too – two different designations in one body, you’d have to think of a single name. And the fur too, the bond wolf probably barely escaped.”

“Is there any way to save them?” Scott asks. Which is good. Stiles would’ve probably asked about how to kill them. It. Whatever.

“I don’t know,” Derek says. He’s obviously halfway to snapping at Scott, like a wolf nipping at a naughty puppy. Now would be a good time for Stiles to jump in.

“Okay, hey. It’s obvious this isn’t exactly a normal situation we’re dealing with,” he says. “So we’ll just…brainstorm, I guess. Okay. Psychic link goes two ways, if you get rid of one part of the link you get a weird feedback loop in one brain. Can you add another link?”

“One human per wolf,” Scott reminds him.

“Unless the human dies,” Derek says, eyes widening. “If they’re technically a bond wolf-”

“They can bond again,” Stiles says. “ _Shit._ ”

In the woods, when it first attacked Scott, was Nightmare coming to try and forcibly bond Scott? Christ, was that what he was doing in the school, multitasking and trying to find another target while taking Chipmunk off the threat list?

Hearth is already up on his big, big paws and circling the house, sniffing intently. Chipmunk is no longer in puppy mode – he’s on guard. Stiles is starting to think it’s kind of cruel, what they’ve put the poor baby bond wolf through already.

“So basically this guy can overwrite the brain of whoever it hooks into?” Stiles says. Well, demands kind of. Derek doesn’t look like he minds, eyes shut like he’s listening intently. Probably paying extra attention to Hearth. “That’s what we’re looking at?”

“Then he’d probably go after the person everyone in town would want to be,” Scott says, which really presents two options – Jackson (shudder), or Lydia. They’ve just been _assuming_ the wolf’s human was male for some reason, but even if the human was female, would they prefer Lydia over the absurdly rich and athletic Jackson?

“We’ve got Jackson,” Derek says, and Jesus _Christ_ is he really going to ride Hearth like a freaking pony? Apparently so, since he hops onto the wolf and somehow situates himself perfectly and, well, apparently this is a thing they do. Wolves aren’t exactly built for riding, but whatever. “Scott, you-”

“Allison,” Scott says, stunned. When they look at him, Scott is dangerously pale. “The fire, it was caused by her family, so, I mean, he’d want revenge.”

“Go,” Stiles says, because yeah, that sounds about right for a psychotic man-wolf named _people burning to death_. Stiles didn’t actually mean for him to take the jeep, with Chipmunk immediately bounding after him and actually doing a terrifyingly good job of keeping up before taking the offroad route that’ll probably end up getting them there at the same time.

_Sawdust-hot-brick-cooking bread_ assaults Stiles’ nose. By now he knows the difference between attempts at wolf-to-wolfless human communication, but Hearth is much clearer than Chipmunk ever is. Practice, probably.

Stiles smiles at Hearth. “Hello to you too. Is that Derek’s name?”

_Amusement. No,_ is the reply to that. Stiles isn’t quite sure what Derek is doing, but he’s obviously busy despite the fact he’s just kind of sitting on top of the ridiculously big wolf. _Fresh-mint-leaves -rain._

“That’s _way_ better than Inhaler,” Stiles says. He’s getting the odd impression that Hearth actually likes him. Then again, there’s probably not many people willing to have conversations with six foot tall wolves, particularly out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but Derek Hale for company. “Oh hey, since we’re talking-”

“I’m leaving,” Derek interrupts.

“Isn’t that up to Hearth?” Stiles says, snide, and it earns him another wave of _Amusement_. He sighs, and just waves them on. 

“Take care of Lydia,” Derek says, and then they’re off. How Derek is staying on Hearth, Stiles will never, ever know. They’re moving very fast, and neither of them seem the least bit bothered by the fact neither of them are supposed to be able to do that.

Stiles realizes he’s completely alone in the woods while there’s a killer giant wolf with a psychotic human brain roaming around and looking to overwrite someone’s mind.

Great.

He takes a deep breath, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and heads for the road. Stiles actually manages to hitchhike, but it’s because one of his dad’s deputies drives past and shouts _What the hell are you doing out here, your dad’s going to kill you_ , so he’s not sure if that actually counts as a success. Still, it gets him to Lydia’s house a hell of a lot faster than on foot, even if the deputy is now officially suspicious, even if the guy doesn’t know what to be suspicious about.

When he knocks on the Martins’ front door, they tell him Lydia’s with Jackson practicing lacrosse. After making them actually tell him what _location_ that would be, they pretty much tell him they’re at the school’s lacrosse field. Which is kind of ridiculous, because seriously, didn’t they just work their asses off yesterday to get away from the school safely? He sighs, only feels a little bit bad about stealing a very expensive bike from where someone had propped it next to a mailbox – he’s got priorities and they’ll get it back, all they have to do is report it stolen and hey, guess what the cops have in possession? – and makes his way to the school.

There’s signs that the morons were actually at the field, such as the hastily discarded gear and the purse Lydia would never in a thousand years just _leave_. There’s also claw marks on the ground, and Stiles can’t tell if they’re Hearth’s or Nightmare’s. Whoever they belonged to, they’re gone now. Stiles pulls out his phone and finally dials the number he’s (very, very shamefully) stolen from Allison’s phone. Lydia’s phone rings. It’s in her purse.

“Great,” Stiles mutters, and gathers up Lydia’s things.

See, the thing about wolves is that they are really fucking quiet. Like, barely hear the press of their weight against the ground levels of quiet. Stiles is still holding Lydia’s history homework when he actually notices he’s being stalked. The fact he isn’t dead yet suggests it might just be Hearth being curious and standoffish. Maybe. Shit, he really hopes so.

_I think you’ll do quite nicely,_ sears through Stiles’ mind. It’s a man’s voice, wrapped in a purely feral growl from the depths of hell itself, and the wolf side of Nightmare is projecting _vengeance wrath satisfaction anger smug smug smug_.

Oh shit, _shit_ , no he fucking _won’t_ do quite nicely, he won’t do at all. Stiles knows he’s still holding on to the papers like they’ll somehow save him, or possibly erase his own idiocy, this is a classic horror movie mistake, Christ, he’s the stupid best friend who underestimates the danger and goes off alone and gets redshirted at the start of the serious action, isn’t he? It’s so unfair; he didn’t even get to have premarital sex before this.

He turns around because yeah, if he’s gonna die he is going to look at what is stealing his body. Nightmare is there in all his glory, albeit with a newly missing ear and ragged breathing. Nightmare’s just out of a fight. Stiles really, really hopes whoever it was with got out okay.

“I’m not letting you take my body,” Stiles says. Nightmare’s eyes are pure red, and there’s a terrifying glint of inhuman intelligence to them. The wolf’s tongue lolls out, laughing silently, and Stiles glares at Nightmare with all the anger he has. Stiles is fucking _terrified_ , but that’s not going to do him any good here, is it? He’s staring down five hundred points of psychotic bond wolf that looks more like a walking corpse than an actual wolf, and he is going to _keep_ staring the fucker down.

Nightmare’s head is right in front of Stiles’, staring him in the eye. _I used to be Peter Hale, but I won’t mind being you_ , Nightmare offers, like Stiles should be flattered somehow. When Stiles doesn’t reply, only keeps concentrating on the wolf – maybe he can gouge its eyes out? – Nightmare growls at him. It’s the stuff of…well. _Why aren’t you screaming?_

“I’m too busy trying to find a way to get out of this,” Stiles answers honestly. He could probably manage a lie, but his brain’s too busy thinking that if Nightmare can survive this much damage, gouging its eyes probably won’t do much. But then again, he doesn’t have to do much, does he? He just needs to _run_.

_You’re cute_ , Peter says, and bares his teeth. There’s blood on them. _Stupid, but cute. You’ll be a fun toy._

There’s no way in hell Stiles can be faster than a freaking bond wolf, but he has Lydia’s purse in one hand and her homework in the other and at least it’s _something_ , so Stiles backs up. He quivers. He watches Nightmare’s eyes, and the tilt of his head, and blurts out, “Please.”

It feels like something just jabbed against his forehead.

Stiles ignores it in favor of swinging Lydia’s enormous purse around twice, hopefully getting a little more power from it, and swings it up and into the underside of Nightmare’s jaw as hard as he can with the ridiculously heavy bag, seriously, how do girls carry these things constantly? He doesn’t bother waiting to see if it even did anything to the nightmare wolf other than making him maybe bite his tongue – he _bolts_.

He flings the bag back behind him, hopefully smacking Nightmare (but probably not), and runs for the bleachers. It’s the closest thing that could be even remotely useful or he’d have any chance of reaching. They will do him like no good at all but at least it’s better than the middle of a field. Stiles is diving into the supports when Nightmare howls, furious, and god he is going to need _so_ much therapy, but hopefully Chipmunk or Hearth will hear and come save him, if Nightmare didn’t already kill them. Shit, he should’ve called Scott, he was too busy worrying about his own job-

_Just give up already_ , Nightmare snarls, jaw snapping at Stiles’ incredibly feeble protective layer of steel. It’s probably the first and only time Stiles will be grateful for how enormous bond wolves are. _Just give up! I’m going to kill you and swallow your soul, and then Gwenu and I will murder your best friend and his fucking puppy and then we will start on your FATHER-_

Stiles officially starts to freak the fuck out.

_Mine_ rings through Stiles’ mind, fierce and pristine and absolute like the still sound of the world after a huge bell rings, and it feels like the entire world stops.

Stiles has noticed that bond wolves feel different in your brain. Chipmunk feels like someone is poking at him incessantly, like an excited six-year-old who wants to talk. Hearth feels like a comfortable fire pit with a personality just lit next to him. Nightmare feels like someone’s trying to slice his brain with a knife – which he supposes Peter is. But this new voice, right now it’s like being struck by lightning, electrocuted with every impression its owner sends.

He realizes it isn’t the world that stopped. Nightmare did.

_Oh, shit_ , Peter says, almost meekly. Nightmare’s head dips slightly, and then one more bond wolf is there. 

He can only see paws from his position, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t move if he even wanted to, but the paws are white-ish (cream?), so it’s nobody Stiles knows.

That’s all he really gets to process before the wolf rams into Nightmare so hard his face jams in the bleachers’ supports. Nightmare snarls and manages to get out from beneath the bleachers, but not before the new wolf has its jaws around Nightmare’s neck and-

Jesus fuck, is this wolf _pink_?

Stiles’ brain is not catching on the important things, he can tell.

The wolf that definitely looks pink when it’s running around and Stiles can barely see it, but he is totally okay with that, because Strawberry Shortcake is kicking Nightmare’s ass. Nightmare was already wounded, but now Stiles can see he’s missing an entire bite out of his side. Blood is seeping out relentlessly, and Pinkie is circling on fresh, deft paws.

_I will NOT die_ , Peter roars. _I’m not done! Our vengeance, it’s our right to get revenge, THEY DESERVE IT I WILL NOT DIE fire-fear-charred-flesh-burning-fur-fire-fire-fire-_

He’s inside Stiles’ head. He is _inside Stiles’ head_ , and it’s like something is clawing frantically at his brain. It hurts so bad Stiles falls to the ground and _screams_ , he feels like he’s dying, and the world is starting to go dark please please _please no_ -

_MINE_ , that same lightning jolt of a wolf snaps out, peerless and absolute, and the pain is gone.

So are the howls and snarls of the fight.

When Stiles can finally manage to open his eyes, Strawberry Shortcake’s paws are waiting politely outside of the bleachers. They’re bloody.

_Safe_ , the wolf projects at him almost lazily. Somehow, Stiles knows without a doubt that it’s female. _Come out of hiding place. Safe._

“You know, you’re pretty eloquent for a wolf,” Stiles slurs out, but manages to clamber his way through the struts and stumble over to sit on the actual bleachers.

The wolf is not, in fact, pink. It’s mostly white, but with many small bursts of red, like her coat is covered in wolf freckles. He guesses it makes sense that she’d look pink when she’s moving fast. She also has blood all over her mouth and neck and paws, and Stiles has a suspicion that none of it is hers.

“Thanks for saving me,” Stiles says, very grateful that he’s sitting down.

Shortcake’s head tilts to the side, looking at him for a long time without projecting anything, and then lets out a whuff of air and shifts to sit next to the seat Stiles picked. _Mine_ , she projects like a fact, with a little bit of pride in it.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Ohhh, no,” Stiles says, shaking his head almost violently. “No no no, I can’t have a bond wolf, no way can I have a bond wolf, bond wolf means I could get arrested or sent into the military or murdered, I can’t leave my dad!”

He gets an impression of _absently shaking water off while in motion_ , which is, again, pretty eloquent. It’s the most obvious ‘I don’t give a fuck’ that a wolf can manage. Her eyes meet his for the first time. They’re red, but not like Nightmare’s hell-red. These are kind of, well, cherry. 

He needs to stop comparing this bond wolf to dessert foods.

_Warm-pine-sap-in-winter coming_ , she says. Somehow, she’s kind of aloof. _Snow-hot-blood-fur._

“Jesus Christ, that’s a terrible name,” Stiles says.

That, at least, earns him, _Amusement, fondness, partner._ She glances to the right. _Sawdust-hot-brick-cooking bread also coming. Fresh-cut-grass-paper-sweat is well-liked._

“That’s me, huh?” Stiles says dryly. “Sweat and grass. Awesome.”

Little miss I’ll Name Myself ‘I Just Killed a Deer’ shifts to rest her head lightly against his. _Lone wolf against angry bull moose. Impressed._

She thinks he’s brave. If Nightmare was a bull moose, he wonders what that makes her. _Strawberry mousse_ , maybe. God, that’s a terrible pun.

He sighs. “Okay. I am incredibly grateful, and you seem like a really great wolf and all, but I just can’t deal with this right now,” Stiles says. “So here’s the deal.”

Bizarrely enough, Strawberry Mousse gives him a, _Listening, keep going_.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, and pets her a little bit on the shoulder. She’s surprisingly soft, for a wolf half covered in blood. “Okay. Like I said, I can’t do this full-time like Derek or Scott. And you seem like a really cool girl, so I was thinking we could take it slow? Like, meet every now and then. You’re obviously not a puppy-” _Amusement/fondness_ practically floods him at that “-so we can both be adults about this and sort of…ease in? Like, if you need me you call, and if I need you I call. Would that work?”

Mousse watches him, and shifts into Stiles’ petting slightly. _Lone wolf against angry bull moose,_ she says again, but this time there is a very stern _BAD IDEA_ attached.

“Oh, and it wasn’t a bad idea at all for you to just go charging right in,” Stiles says. “Besides, you can sense me and stuff, right? If I’m too stubborn to call for help, you’d know to come anyway.” He pauses. “Would I get that sensing thing for you, too?”

Mousse’s tail swishes slightly. _Won’t need to_. She’s kind of arrogant.

Then again, he thinks about her name in comparison to the equivalent of _Kitchen_ for Hearth and _Thawing Pine Tree_ for Chipmunk, and thinks about the fact she took down Nightmare like it was nothing. He’s thinking _I Just Killed A Deer_ here might be able to back it up.

Her name’s obviously really Deadhart, but he’s sticking with Mousse. Strawberry Mousse if he’s being specific. If he doesn’t go by his real name, neither should she.

“Okay, so we’re in agreement?” Stiles watches her. “Space? Adjustment period?”

_Agreement_ comes through, along with a bit of _Relief_ that he’s pretty sure she didn’t want him to know. She turns away again to look around at the world. _Warm-pine-sap-in-winter_.

“What-”

Wolves are really, really quiet.

Chipmunk comes hurtling through the air, aimed straight at Mousse. Mousse just ducks, and Chipmunk goes sailing over the bleachers. Chipmunk snarls at her. _My pack! Defend!_

Mousse lets out a whuff of amused tolerance. After comparing Mousse’s thoughts to Chipmunk’s, Stiles wonders how it ever took him so long to realize Chipmunk was barely a teenager in bond wolf years. _Down, puppy. Pack. Fresh-cut-grass-paper-sweat is mine._

Chipmunk immediately calms down. No duplicity among wolves, apparently. Stiles’ jeep comes roaring along just a bit later, and the motor’s still running when Scott flings himself out, already wheezing. Allison is there though, along with Lydia. Allison has a crossbow. Stiles thinks that’s probably not exactly useful against something like Nightmare, but seriously, what does he know?

“Stiles!” Scott wheezes, and manages to get his wind again. Mostly, that just means he’s there to fall into line with the others to stare at Stiles and his blood-soaked little Mousse, Nightmare’s still-warm corpse behind them.

_Amusement_ pours through him, and he scratches Mousse behind the ear hard enough that she makes a happy noise before getting back on her paws and giving him yet another one of those affectionate headbutts. _Call me whenever, dear._

Seriously, freakishly eloquent.

“Oh hey, I was gonna hose you down, if you want,” Stiles says.

The amount of _fondness_ she readily projects at him is going to make him start freaking people out with the warm fuzzies. _Snow-hot-blood-fur_ , she reminds him. Deadhart. Right. She glances over at the three latecomers – four if she includes the puppy – and it’s like Stiles can see her gather arrogance around her before turning and trotting off into the forest.

“So I might have accidentally gotten a bond wolf,” Stiles tells them.

“What the hell happened here?!” Scott shouts, motioning between Stiles and the slightly busted bleachers and the huge wolf corpse soaking into the poor lacrosse field, and then into the woods where Mousse had disappeared into like the mysterious pink streak of wolf she is. “I thought the freak was going after Jackson!”

“Pretty sure Peter was going with the ‘any port in the storm’ philosophy at that point,” Stiles says. “He was pretty banged up. Still, glad Mousse came along.”

_I like her!_ Chipmunk announces immediately. Oddly, there’s no scent to go with the ‘her’.

“Are we all getting enormous psychic wolves at this point?” Lydia snaps. “Because I don’t know about you but I have plenty on my plate already!”

Stiles nods, and stands, only to groan and sit back down. Jesus, he hadn’t realized he was this messed up just from the adrenaline and tripping around in the bleachers. It gives him no way to really avoid explaining, so he does.

He also apologizes about Lydia’s purse. She doesn’t actually seem to care.

“I wonder where Jackson went,” Lydia says a few minutes later.

And really, Stiles should have guessed this was just the start of the shitstorm that his life has become.

**Author's Note:**

> Psychic wolves are super fun. I've never read the actual canon (Companion to Wolves) but my BFF/moirail has so I'm calling it good enough. Anyway, notes on humans & wolves:
> 
> Scott: _fallen leaves-metallic tang (Dropped Inhaler)_  
>  \+ Chipmunk aka _warm pine sap in winter_  
>  1.5 years old; brown with chipmunk-like markings. About the size of a 12 hand pony.
> 
> Derek: _fresh mint leaves – rain_  
>  \+ Hearth aka _sawdust-hot brick-cooking bread (Kitchen)_  
>  7 years old, cinder coat (black with white/grey patches). About the size of a 14 hand horse/pony.
> 
> Stiles: _fresh cut grass-paper-sweat (Last Stand)_  
>  \+ Strawberry Mousse [but really Deadhart; Stiles believes in not going by awkward given names] aka _snow-hot blood-fur (I KILLED A DEER :D)_  
>  9 years old, beige with reddish spots/freckles, making her look kind of pink. 13.5 hand horse/pony.
> 
> NIGHTMARE WOLF: _fire-fear-charred-flesh-burning-fur-fire-fire-fire (aka Everyone Burning To Death In The Hale House)_  
>  \+ made up of Peter Hale and what used to be his happy black wolf Gwenu. Enormous, about 15 hands, matted pitch black coat with visible severely burnt skin in a few places, generally a terrifying murderous creature.  
> Hopefully Rider-ness was explained well enough in-text, but if not: Peter's insane brain melded/inside Gwenu's ripped apart feral body. Lovely.


End file.
